


heliades

by persephoneggsy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Jack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angel is mentioned but she's canonically dead sorry, Bottom Rhys, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Smut, Jack is a dick but he loves his Rhysie uwu, M/M, Mpreg, Office Sex, Omega Rhys, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, Top Jack, Unplanned Pregnancy, also they kinda kill a guy, but it's Borderlands it's pretty par for the course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: It was a rare, glorious week when Rhys’s heat and Jack’s rut just so happen to coincide, and to the surprise of absolutely no one who knows them personally, the two had completely vanished, only to emerge a full week later, exhausted, sated, and reeking of each other’s scents.But they’d returned to their normal routine soon enough, and as far as they or anyone else was concerned, nothing else of note had happened.That is incorrect.And, in retrospect, neither Rhys nor Jack had any right to be surprised.





	heliades

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have an excuse for this? I just wanted to write a bunch of scenes of Jack and Rhys being my ideal ship dynamic and the mpreg just sorta........... happened. 
> 
> lol
> 
> title refers to the Heliades, the daughters of Greek god Helios.

It was a rare, glorious week when Rhys’s heat and Jack’s rut just so happen to coincide, and to the surprise of absolutely no one who knows them personally, the two had completely vanished, only to emerge a full week later, exhausted, sated, and reeking of each other’s scents.

But they’d returned to their normal routine soon enough, and as far as they or anyone else was concerned, nothing else of note had happened.

That is incorrect.

And, in retrospect, neither Rhys nor Jack had any right to be surprised.

* * *

The first sign of something unusual going on makes itself known when Rhys has a sudden dizzy spell – he almost falls to his knees as a wave of nausea overcomes him, saved only by his cybernetic arm reacting before he can and reaching out to steady him against the nearest wall. He breathes in harshly through his nose, his vision blurring slightly at the edges.

He barely registers Vaughn and Yvette, who had been walking alongside him as the three of them made their way to lunch, rush to his side and flutter nervously around him. He does recognize Yvette’s Alpha scent, tinged with a sour note of worry, and though Vaughn is a Beta, he imagines his best friend is similarly distressed.

“Bro?” Vaughn’s voice floats in Rhys’s head, and he winces when it sounds so loud. “Are you okay?”

Rhys holds up his flesh hand, scrunching his eyes shut. “Y-Yeah,” he rasps. “I… I just think it’s a migraine?”

He feels Yvette’s hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles at the base of his neck – not too close to his bonding mark (Jack’s very picky about other Alphas touching that spot), but close enough that the action comforts him.

“Jack working you too hard?” she asks, eyebrow quirked up. 

“Hah, no.” Rhys opens his eyes and gives them his best smile. It must not be very convincing, given their expressions don’t change. “Honestly, he hasn’t been giving me enough. He gets all weird after my heats, acts like I’m some delicate… urgh…” Another wave of nausea overcomes him, interrupting him mid-sentence. 

Vaughn makes a noise. “So, like… a lack-of-stress migraine? Do those exist?”

“Anything’s possible with this one,” Yvette says. 

Rhys sends her a pout. Luckily, the cloud of delirium is beginning to clear, and he pushes himself off the wall in a slow, steady motion. Vaughn and Yvette are watching him carefully, the latter with her hand still hovering by Rhys’s back, as if to catch him if he sways. 

“I’m fine, I think it’s passed.”

Vaughn frowns. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Rhys swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “I think I just need some water.”

“Well, come on, then,” Yvette starts guiding Rhys forward, continuing back on their way towards their usual lunch spot. Vaughn falls into step beside them. “Sooner we get to the café, the sooner you can have your water. You’ll probably feel better after you eat, too.”

Vaughn hums. “Mm, yeah. I hear there’s a new roast beef sandwich that’s pretty good.”

Rhys opens his mouth to respond – to say that he doesn’t like roast beef that much – but instead, what comes out is vomit.

“Jesus!” Yvette shouts, as both she and Vaughn jump back out of the splash zone. 

Rhys is left to hunch over and cough out the last of the mercifully short-lived bile explosion. He’s thankful that the hallway they’re in is mostly empty, save for a few bots wandering to and fro; lord knows how the Hyperion gossip farms would explode upon seeing Handsome Jack’s personal assistant blow chunks all over the floor like a college freshman.

The Omega groans, swaying on his feet. With great effort, he slumps himself against the wall again, rather than fall forward into his own mess. 

“Okay, you’re going home, bro,” Vaughn says as he steps carefully around the puddle. “You’ve definitely got something.”

“I’m,” Rhys grimaces at the taste in his mouth, “ugh, I’m not sick. Must’ve been something I ate last night.”

Yvette eyes him critically. “If you say so. Come on, let’s get you back to your apartment.”

Rhys feels an arm slip under his armpit – Yvette, most likely, judging by the scent – and his own arm is being hung over a shoulder, and he whines.

“I can’t just take the day off… What about Jack?”

“He can manage a day without you, Rhys,” Yvette replies. “Besides, if you throw up in Handsome Jack’s office, I don’t care how cute he thinks you are, that’s definitely an airlock-able offense.”

Rhys huffs in indignation – Jack wouldn’t airlock him over something like that. Other people, sure, but not his mate.

“Still… I should call… hurf…” Rhys shudders.

“The only thing you should be doing is getting home and resting,” says Vaughn. “I’ll… I’ll call Jack for you. Okay?”

Both Rhys and Yvette look at the accountant, shocked. Of the three of them, Vaughn has had the hardest time adjusting to Jack’s increased presence ever since Rhys landed the PA job; not to mention how Jack started hanging around even _more_ after bonding with Rhys. 

Yvette treads carefully around the top Alpha, but she can maintain her composure all the same, and Rhys, obviously, has long since grown immune to Jack’s bullshit. Vaughn, though, has never lost his innate fear of the CEO; a fact that actually delights Jack, to no one’s surprise. 

“Are you sure?” frowns Yvette. “You can take Rhys back to his place and I can call Jack.”

“Nah,” Vaughn shakes his head. “It’s safer for him to walk around with another Alpha, right? Plus, I really don’t want him to vomit on me.”

“One,” starts Rhys, “I would never, bro. Two, do you even have Jack’s number?”

“Yeeeah,” Vaughn rubs the back of his head, looking consternated. “He sorta swiped my ECHOcomm one day and put his contact information in there. To, uh… ‘dish the dirt on Rhysie’, quote-unquote.”

Rhys stares. “Dish the… Oh my god.” A look of offense crosses the Omega’s face. “You told him about the blender thing, didn’t you?”

Vaughn holds up his hands. “Hey, so, Yvette, go ahead and take him back, okay? Okay! I’m gonna go call Jack! Away from here. Bye!”

And with that, the Beta turns tail and dashes off in the opposite direction, leaving his friends in his wake. Rhys is shouting after him while Yvette only rolls her eyes in fond exasperation, but the moment of levity is quickly dropped when Rhys groans, his rant cut-off by a dangerous-sounding ‘urp’.

“Rhys, if you vomit on me, you’re buying lunch for the rest of my life.”

“Just… take me home…” Rhys says miserably. 

“Okay, Rhys.”

“It wasn’t even my fault… Who gives a blender a wireless setting? Of course it reacted to my arm…”

“Mmhm.”

They slowly make they way back to the Upper-Class residential area, and by the time they make it through Rhys’s front door, the Omega is unreasonably exhausted, and promptly passes out on the couch.

* * *

When Rhys awakes, it’s to the soothing and familiar sensation of fingers combing through his hair. Long, calloused fingers, whose nails scratch lightly against Rhys’s scalp, bringing an instantaneous purr from his throat. He doesn’t even have his eyes open all the way before he guesses who it is.

“Jack,” he starts, voice raspy and full of the taste of stale vomit.

The Alpha looks down at him with an eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed. “Heeey, cupcake. How are ya feelin’?”

“Better,” he says honestly. Breathing in Jack’s scent, being touched by his mate, has really done a 180 on Rhys’s mood. At the very least, he doesn’t feel like dry-heaving anymore. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” starts Jack, as his fingers continue raking through Rhys’s hair. “Imagine you’re me – yeah, yeah, nothing new to you, I bet – but imagine you’re me and you’re just itching to see your young, hot, and extremely flexible mate come back from his lunch break so you can get in a quickie before your next meeting. Only for said mate’s nerdy short-ass friend to call you up and tell you he’s sick. Like, horror movie demon with pea soup sick.”

Rhys frowns. “It wasn’t that ba-!”

“Hush baby, Daddy’s talking,” says Jack. He grins at Rhys’s resulting pout. “Anyway. What’s a good Alpha to do but go and check up on his dear, beloved Omega, right? Your other buddy, the Alpha chick, was just leaving when I dropped by. And you were passed out on the couch.”

Blinking, Rhys realizes that if that’s true, then he must’ve been moved, because they’re quite clearly in his bedroom now. A happy flush overcomes him at the thought of Jack picking him up and carrying him to his bed, all without Rhys consciously asking. The purr in the back of his throat grows louder and he nuzzles into Jack’s side.

He can hear the smug smile in Jack’s voice when he speaks next, but he doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed at it.

“I know, I know. I’m the best. You can thank me later. Preferably with your body.”

Rhys manages a chuckle. “Could I at least have some water, first?”

He’s surprised to be met with a glass not two seconds later. Jack must’ve had it sitting on the bedside table already. Another surge of affection for the Alpha hits him, and he takes the glass with a gentle smile aimed in Jack’s direction. Of course, Jack is averting his gaze – for whatever reason, he still ascribes to the ‘Alphas aren’t supposed to give a shit’ attitude that dominated much of their early relationship, back when Rhys was fairly certain Jack hated his guts.

If Past Rhys could see them now, he thinks giddily, taking small sips of water.

Jack waits, with uncharacteristic patience, for Rhys to finish the glass before he retrieves it and sets it back on the bedside table. Then, he shimmies down from his sitting position to wrap his arms around the Omega, burying his nose in Rhys’s hair.

Rhys relaxes against his Alpha, still smiling. Then, he pauses, remembering something. He checks the time with his ECHOeye, then checks Jack’s schedule for the day, and frowns. 

“Jack, you’re supposed to be in a meeting right now.”

“Ugh. Seriously, princess?”

“You’ve been putting it off for weeks. Blake’s been breathing down my neck about it enough as is.”

Jack’s grip around him tightens. “He giving you trouble, babe?”

Rhys rolls his eyes. “I can handle him. But you can only tell the people in Tourism ‘later’ for so long before they start getting uppity.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. Reschedule the meeting for first thing tomorrow.”

Sighing, but also knowing that’s as much as Jack’s probably willing to compromise, Rhys does so, powering down his ECHOeye moments later. “How you’ve managed to make Hyperion the giant it is today is beyond me. You’re so irresponsible.”

Jack snickers. “I was a lot more ‘responsible’ before a certain long-legged Omega waltzed into my office. Honestly, this is technically your fault. You’re the one who blew chunks in a hallway.”

“You didn’t have to check on me.”

“Yeah, but you’re happy that I did.”

Rhys opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Jack’s got him there. Instead, he makes an annoyed chuff and tucks his face into Jack’s neck, breathing his scent in deeply. He feels instantly calmed, and any more irritation he feels towards Jack are promptly forgotten in favor of a nice, warm nap with his Alpha.

“Go to sleep, cupcake,” murmurs Jack. A kiss is pressed into Rhys’s hair. “Daddy’s got you.”

And with a soft smile lingering on his lips, Rhys does.

* * *

Thing is, Rhys sort of figured that would be the end of it. When he awoke the next morning, he felt completely fine, so he’d gone right back to work. He didn’t have anymore dizzy spells or bouts of nausea, things he had to constantly reassure to Jack, so he stuck with his original theory that he must’ve eaten something bad earlier that caused some sort of delayed reaction. Two days passed without further incident, and the matter is mostly forgotten about, save for Jack and his friends occasionally reminding him about the vomiting, since it’s apparently hilarious in hindsight. 

So on the third day back after his impromptu day off, when Rhys feels strange again, he doesn’t think the situation is related. It’s a different type of pain, for starters; rather than nausea, Rhys just feels an uncomfortable twinging in his chest. Specifically, around his nipples. 

He wouldn’t consider himself especially sensitive in that area, at least compared to other Omegas, but _fuck._ Just the sensation of his shirt rubbing against them is making him wince. And when he tries to press his palm flat against his chest to try and alleviate the discomfort, he’s startled by how absolutely _tender_ the skin around his nipples is. 

He whimpers quietly, quickly retracting his hand. 

“Everything alright, princess?” asks Jack, seated at his desk. The Alpha’s still staring at his computer, analyzing some kind of gun blueprint. 

Rhys frowns accusingly at him anyway. He kind of wants to ask his mate if they had sex last night. Which, for the record, is a completely reasonable question to ask. They’re fairly… adventurous, as far as kinks go, and when they were spending the night together, it wasn’t uncommon for Jack to have a bit of fun with Rhys’s body while the Omega was still asleep. He had Rhys’s permission to do that, but he usually let Rhys know that it happened after the fact, if he couldn’t figure it out on his own. 

That morning, though, Rhys woke up feeling just fine, and Jack was still asleep, curled possessively around his mate. There’d been no indication of Jack’s somnophilic tendencies, either, and since the Alpha didn’t say anything, Rhys doubts that’s the cause of his sudden soreness. 

So instead, he just murmurs a soft, “I’m fine,” and tries to get back to his own work, holding his back as straight as he can, to avoid rubbing the fabric of his shirt against his chest again. 

It doesn’t really work. He thinks his shirt must’ve shrunk in the wash or something, because it feels tighter than normal, leaving his poor nipples to keep brushing against the fabric. 

Plus, his back is starting to protest at being held in one position for so long. He bites back another whimper. Maybe he should excuse himself to the bathroom for a moment, to try and check what the _fuck_ is happening with him. 

He’s so focused on his discomfort that he doesn’t even realize Jack’s gotten up from his chair and walked up behind him. The Alpha makes his presence known soon enough, as two large hands suddenly slide against Rhys’s front, putting hard pressure on his sensitive chest and making the Omega gasp sharply at the tingles it sends through his body. 

Jack gives a thoughtful hum. “Feeling sore, baby?”

Rhys doesn’t turn around in his chair to glare at the older man, even though he really wants to. But Jack’s hands remain sternly in place on his chest, and honestly, the warmth radiating from his palm actually feels really nice. 

“I don’t know _why,”_ he complains quietly. “Unless you molested me last night and just didn’t say anything.”

“Nah,” he can practically hear Jack’s grin. “Trust me, Rhysie, if I went HAM on your tits, you’d know.”

“Please don’t call them tits.”

Jack ignores him. “Anyway, what specifically is hurting?”

Rhys pouts. “... I dunno. My nipples, mostly? Feels like every little touch is, like, shocking them. And the skin around them feels tender.”

Jack’s hands move, lifting carefully from his chest before fingers start undoing the buttons on Rhys’s shirt. 

Rhys rolls his eyes and lifts his cybernetic hand to stop his Alpha. Jack smacks it away. “Jack, I’m not taking my shirt off in here.” 

He’d made it a rule, not getting naked in the office, after a very unfortunate incident involving Jack’s insatiable libido and Hugo Fucking _Assquez_ walking in on them. Admittedly, his former co-worker’s shell-shocked expression was kind of funny, but Rhys also knew the prick well enough to guess that he was going to spread _all_ the rumors about Rhys sleeping his way to the top and being nothing more than Handsome Jack’s little whore as soon as he left. 

Which, he did, because fucking of course, and after a lot of air locking employees with loose lips and threats of never having sex with the Alpha ever again, Jack acquiesced to Rhys’s demand of not taking their clothes off in the office. They still had sex there, naturally, but now if anyone were about to walk in, it would be a hell of a lot easier to straighten themselves out. 

At least Vasquez got a bullet through his stupid skull at the end of it all. 

Rhys is drawn out of his musings by Jack’s response. “M not taking it off, just unbuttoning it.”

Rhys’s opens his mouth to tell him to quit it, but stops himself when he feels the first breeze of cool air on his chest and _oh._ Yeah, that actually feels great. It feels even better when his Alpha’s fingers start rubbing slowly but firmly around the skin of his pecs, careful to avoid the nipples. 

The Omega lets out a breathy sigh, slumping back against his chair. He hears Jack snicker above him. 

“What was that Rhysie? You still want your shirt buttoned up again?”

“Just… shut up and keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Ooh, you’re so bitchy when you’re cranky. Kinda hot.”

“Didn’t I _just_ say shut up?” 

And Jack _does,_ though not without laughing once more at Rhys’s scowl. Then they actually spend a few minutes in relative silence, save for the always-there hum of Helios in the background. At some point, Rhys has tilted his head over the top of his chair, his eyes half-closed as he purrs at his Alpha’s ministrations. His nose picks up a spike of arousal in Jack’s scent, but his touch never grows insistent, keeping the same steady pace. 

He opens his eyes fully to the sight of Jack’s face above him - for a split second, the Alpha is just smiling down at him, his gaze amused but… soft, in a way Rhys rarely ever sees. Of course, when Jack realizes Rhys is looking, his expression immediately sharpens to something appropriately leering.

“Damn, baby. Did you take something from the nerds in R&D or something? Your tits feel bigger.”

Rhys huffs. “I told you to stop calling… y’know what, nevermind. No, Jack. I haven’t even _been_ to R&D lately.”

“Huh. Swear they feel bigger.”

Rhys narrows his eyes up at the Alpha. “Are you implying I’m getting fat?”

Jack grins. “Well, you _did_ scarf down nearly that entire lasagna not too long ago…”

“That was right after my heat!” Rhys says, indignant. “You know how starved I am after my heats!”

“And yet, at the same time, I just came outta the best damn rut of my life. Didn’t see me decimate an entire pasta dish, didya?”

Rhys purses his lips, but he can’t think of a witty enough reply in time. So instead they lapse back into silence as the Alpha continues his massage.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Rhys thinks he can manage for the rest of the day, so Jack stops. Though he does try and convince Rhys to keep his shirt open, the Omega just looks his mate directly in the eyes as he does up each button. Jack sticks his tongue out at him, and retreats back to his own desk.

After he sits down, Rhys glances at him and smiles.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

His Alpha winks. “Don’t mention it, pumpkin.”

* * *

A week passes, and Rhys is willing to admit that maybe there’s _something_ going on with him. 

He gets the occasional headache, which on its own wouldn’t be anything unusual, but the bouts of nausea come back, too, sometimes with a vengeance. Thankfully, none of these have occurred in front of his friends again, or god forbid, _Jack,_ so he can worry about it privately for a few more days before he decides if it’s worth going to see a doctor over.

Before that, though, he has to get through this fucking _day._

Rhys felt perfectly fine that morning, he was even a bit chipper, but that quickly ended just after lunch. Because Jack stepped out to check on the new SMGs in Weapons Development, leaving Rhys to take care of things in office by himself until he got back. This usually means answering calls and taking meetings in Jack’s stead, on top of everything else Rhys normally does, and usually he can handle it.

But today, he’s just fucking annoyed.

Mostly because the _asswipe_ in front of him cannot take no for a goddamn answer.

Rhys resists the urge to groan, rubbing at his temples with his flesh hand. He’s seated at his desk, while the man across from him - a physically fit Alpha, with too-straight, too-white teeth and eyes that wander over Rhys’s form just a _tad_ too long - stands, looking down at the Omega with a smug smirk.

“As I said, Mr. Denton,” Rhys starts, trying not to grind his teeth, “ _several times now,_ Handsome Jack just does not have the time to fit in your proposal this month. Or next month. You’ll have to settle for the month after that, or not at all.”

Denton’s smirk only grows, and he takes a step closer to Rhys’s desk. Rhys draws back, nose wrinkling at his Alpha scent - it’s fucking gross, frankly, completely different to Jack’s thrilling, yet comforting scent.

“Oh, come now, Rhys… Surely you can find a spot for me? The proposal I have in mind won’t take too much of Jack’s time.”

 _“Handsome_ Jack,” Rhys corrects, because peons like Denton don’t deserve to refer to Jack so casually, “is quite busy for the next two months. Maybe if you hadn’t put off scheduling your proposal, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Denton looks unconcerned, which only serves to piss Rhys off more. “Can’t you just take someone else’s slot and give it to me? I’m the vice assistant of Acquisitions. Surely there can’t be that many people more important than me?”

“There are a lot of people more organized than you, clearly. They didn’t wait until the last literal minute to schedule their proposals.” Rhys glares at Denton. “You’ll have to wait two months. We’re done here.”

Finally, Denton looks annoyed. “Now, look here, you little Ome - !”

Rhys’s hands slam down on his desk as he stands, the metal of his cybernetic hand clanging especially loud against his also-metal desk. Denton actually flinches, startled at the sound, and he looks at Rhys dumbfounded, only to find the Omega looking absolutely _livid._

“You need to think _very_ carefully about finishing that sentence,” he growls. “Because if you were about to say what I _think_ you were about to say, then we’re going to have a much bigger problem than your inability to do your fucking job, Denton.”

Denton blinks, something like fear flickering in his gaze ( _good,_ Rhys thinks viciously), before it vanishes, and his stupid smarmy look is back. He tilts his head up to look down at Rhys even more.

“ _Please._ You’re not Jack. You’re not even the least bit intimidating.” His lips curl up, and Rhys can actually see the moment he decides to be a colossal dickbag. “ _Omega bitch.”_

Jaw clenched, Rhys’s cybernetic arm lashes out, grabs Denton by his four-hundred-dollar tie, and yanks it down. The stunned Alpha’s head is pulled into a downwards arc at impressive speed - the sound of his nose colliding with the hard metal edge of Rhys’s desk is loud, gory, and oh so satisfying.

Denton’s screams are also pretty good. The Alpha falls to his knees, curled in front of Rhys’s desk, so the Omega walks around it to observe his handwork. Oh, yeah. He smiles, taking in the sight of blood all over Denton’s face and clothes. There’s a long, clean gash cut across the bridge of his nose, and those perfect white teeth are stained with red.

Rhys snickers while Denton wails, screaming about how Rhys was crazy, when a voice pipes up from the entrance to Jack’s office.

“ _Oof._ That’s gonna leave a scar.” Jack himself says, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks amused by the sight he finds. “What’d he do, sweetheart?”

“He was an idiot,” Rhys says icily. “Honestly, I don’t know what it is with you Alphas and not taking _no_ for an answer…”

“Whoa, hey,” Jack holds up his arms in mock surrender. “I just got here. Don’t bite _my_ head off just because that guy was a dick.”

They both look at Denton, who’s fallen silent at the sight of Handsome Jack. Now he looks properly terrified, which… Pisses Rhys off. Again.

“H-Handsome Jack, sir,” the other Alpha starts, but Rhys is moving before he can even really think about it. With another growl deep in his throat, Rhys kicks - a skagskin boot hits Denton square in those dumb teeth, sending him flying back, crumpling even further along the floor. Several fake white teeth clatter along with him, knocked out of his mouth by Rhys’s boot.

Jack’s eyebrows fly up to nearly his hairline, the edges of his mask pulling with the expression. He almost looks impressed. 

“ _Jesus H. Christ,_ Rhys.”

Rhys, panting slightly from exertion, sends Jack a glare. “He called me a _bitch.”_

“... Oh, did he?” Jack walks over to Denton, gaze piercing on the other, more pathetic Alpha. “Well, that was pretty fucking stupid of you, wasn’t it, uh…” He looks at Rhys.

“Humphrey Denton,” he spits.

Jack snorts. _“Humphrey._ That was very, _very_ stupid of you, Humpy. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” He reaches down, grabs Denton by his hair, and pulls him up to his knees, making him face Rhys. Denton is visibly trembling, eyes darting between the two top dogs of Hyperion. He flinches when Jack addresses him again. “So, what do you say to Rhys?”

“I - I’m sorry!” he wails. “I’m so sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again! Please!”

“Aw, look, he even threw in a ‘please’,” Jack mocks. He flicks his eyes up to Rhys again. “Well, sweetie?”

Rhys scoffs. He lifts his cybernetic arm and holds it palm-up, where an image of Denton himself flickers to life on a holoscreen. It’s a video, recorded by Rhys’s own ECHOeye, because he always records the meetings he takes for Jack to go over later. Right now, though, the video’s main purpose is revenge. He soaks in the terrified look on Denton’s face before he plays a very specific section.

_“Please. You’re not Jack. You’re not even the least bit intimidating. Omega bitch.”_

Jack’s eyes narrow. “Yep. Okay. Fuck off, Humpy.” His other hand draws his gun out of its holster and presses against Denton’s temple - before the other Alpha can even scream, Jack fires, ending his life in a spray of blood and brain that splats against the front of Rhys’s desk.

He should be annoyed at that. He really should. But the anger has all but immediately dissipated in the face of his Alpha just… eliminating someone like that, someone who insulted Rhys, ostensibly _just_ because they insulted Rhys…

God help him, it’s _hot_.

Just as Jack lets Denton’s corpse fall to the floor, re-holstering his gun in one smooth motion, Rhys crosses over to his Alpha and pulls him into a hard, hungry kiss. Jack groans, surprised, into his Omega’s mouth, but it doesn’t take much prodding from Rhys’s tongue to get him to respond. Soon, they’re vigorously making out, just inches away from a still-bleeding corpse, and Rhys has never been so turned on in all his life.

When they part, both breathing harshly in each other’s faces, Rhys already feels slick gathering at his entrance - and judging by the way Jack’s nostrils flare, he can smell it. So Rhys just states his demand, nipping at Jack’s lips.

“Fuck me.”

He’s answered with a growl and another bruising, claiming kiss. They both go to the floor, neither caring about Denton’s unseeing eyes on them, and it’s only a matter of minutes before Rhys strips them both of their pants, eschewing his own 'no getting naked in the office' rule, and then he’s straddling Jack’s hips, positioning his leaking, twitching hole over the Alpha’s thick, curved erection.

He’s still prepped from an earlier morning quickie, so he wastes no time in sinking down onto Jack’s cock, moaning obscenely at the stretch. Jack’s hands are gripping bruises into Rhys’s waist, but for the moment, it seems the older man is content to let Rhys set the pace. So he does.

Flesh hand on his own quivering cock, cybernetic hand bracing him on Jack’s leg, Rhys starts bouncing himself up and down, mouth falling open with more loud moans and calls of Jack’s name. 

“Fuck, Rhys,” Jack’s voice barely reaches his ears, sounding strained. “If I didn’t… ngh, know you any better, I’d think you were going into heat… _Shit,_ you’re fucking soaked, baby.”

Rhys mewls, grinding his ass down on Jack’s lap. He’s clenching down on his Alpha’s length with varying degrees of intensity, each pulse earning a strangled groan from Jack. His flesh hand pumps his smaller Omega cock - he’s already so close. Fuck, he needs Jack’s knot _now._

“Jack,” Rhys all but sobs his name, bouncing faster and harder, his ass slapping against the older man’s hips. “Jack, _Jack,_ Alpha, please…”

With a guttural roar, Jack flips them over. Rhys’s back hits the hard office floor, and he’s almost certain spots of Denton’s blood is soaking into his shirt, but with Jack above him, aroused and almost rut-feral, he can’t bring himself to care. 

The Alpha only gives his mate a second at the most to adjust to their position before he’s drawing his hips back and plowing inside, taking the Omega hard against the floor. Rhys moans and spreads his legs as wide as they can go. Jack’s mouth latches onto his neck tattoo, where his bonding mark is just barely visible above the ink, and Rhys shivers with pleasure when he feels a tongue laving against it. In response, he brings his cybernetic hand up to the near identical mark on Jack’s neck, and presses the cool metal against it. Jack grunts, slamming his hips in a particularly rough thrust, and Rhys keens.

It doesn’t take long for them both to reach their climaxes. Jack, surprisingly, loses it first, flooding his mate’s insides with warm cum, hips stuttering and finally pausing as his knot slowly swells, keeping him snug inside the Omega. And at the first sign of his Alpha’s knot, Rhys comes, too, spurting long white ropes onto his own chest and chin. 

They lay in a sweaty, bloody, cum-stained heap for a few minutes, each catching their breaths. 

“Jeez, Rhys. You should abuse my employees more often… the way you just - kicked his stupid teeth in was so fucking hot…”

Jack lifts his head from where it previously rested in the crook of Rhys’s neck, a tired but satisfied smirk on his lips -

\- only to be met with a crying Omega. Silent tears stream down Rhys’s face; he sniffles, uselessly wiping at his face, but that just causes more tears to come.

Jack looks… weird. “… Rhysie? Y-You okay, sweetpea?”

Rhys hiccups, looking up at Jack with blurry eyes. “I-I’m fine, I just…”

“Just…?” That weird look is still on his face. It takes Rhys a moment to realize that it’s panic. 

_That’s right,_ Rhys thinks, his mind distant. _I’ve never really cried in front of him before. Aw._ Who'd've thought; Handsome Jack, apex Alpha, King of Hyperion, Terror of Pandora… totally petrified when his Omega mate starts crying.

“I just love you so much,” Rhys manages to get out around his choked-off sobs. 

“... Uh. Thanks… I mean, I love you too, obviously…” Jack clears his throat. “Even when you’re being a total friggin’ weirdo.”

“Mm…” Rhys sniffles again. “Kiss me?”

Jack grimaces, obviously not thrilled with the idea, when Rhys’s face is now tear-stained and snotty. “... Man, you’re lucky I love you.”

Rhys hums in the affirmative as Jack kisses him again.

So there’s Rhys, lying on the quite frankly uncomfortable floor of the CEO’s office, covered in blood, sweat, cum, and now tears, with a dead body slowly decomposing to his left while his Alpha, still knotted inside him, does his best to kiss the tears away.

Life is perfect, Rhys thinks.

* * *

Life is _not_ fucking perfect.

Rhys stares at Dr. Venger, and the Alpha woman stares back, her gaze unimpressed.

“You’re… You’re sure?” Rhys asks, his voice small. God, he shouldn’t have gone and gotten this checkup. He’s so screwed.

“Rhys,” the doctor says, surprisingly patient, despite this being the fourth time Rhys has asked. “We’ve done the test twice, at your request. Both results are the same. _Yes,_ I’m sure.”

Rhys, shaking, looks down at the two tests in question - they’re identical, long tubes with a digital screen embedded at the ends of each. And on each screen is the same symbol: two blue lines.

He’s _pregnant._

“B-But…” the Omega’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. “But we’re both on birth control! How?!”

Dr. Venger raises an eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Rhys, but didn’t you two just have a coinciding heat and rut not too long ago?”

“Y-Yes? Is that when this happened?”

“Most likely.” 

The doctor turns to her ECHOpad, opening up a new chart of data. She flicks it to a holoscreen for Rhys to read. The chart shows some kind of study of mated pairs and conception rates. Rhys feels dizzy even _seeing_ the word ‘conception’. Because he’s conceived. There’s fucking _baby_ inside him.

“It’s a commonly-accepted theory that especially… compatible couples have a higher rate of conception,” says Dr. Venger. “And given that you and Handsome Jack have been together for nearly two years now, it’s safe to say you’re fairly compatible. Now, when such compatible couples share a heat and a rut at the same time… Obviously, their fertility just skyrockets. Possibly enough to overpower any contraceptives you two may have been on.”

Rhys gawps at her. “That’s… Are you _sure?”_ he asks desperately.

Dr. Venger rolls her eyes. “ _Yes._ And if your last heat was indeed the moment of conception…” She pulls up Rhys’s medical record next, which shows a schedule of all his past heats. “Then you’re about seven weeks along. Congratulations.”

“But I - we haven’t - we’re not - !”

Dr. Venger sighs. In a rare moment of compassion, she reaches out and puts a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. Her scent radiates comfort, and despite her not being _Jack,_ it does work a bit, and Rhys stops babbling.

“Listen, I can only tell you what the tests say. You’re pregnant, Rhys. What you and Handsome Jack do with that information is entirely up to you. If you’re not ready, we can take care of that. If you are, I can recommend you a good obstetrician from Eden-5. It’s up to you.”

Except, Rhys thinks later, hours after he’s left the doctor’s and gone back to his own apartment, it really shouldn’t be.

God. _Pregnant._ His mom will be ecstatic. She’s always wanted grandkids. And, if he has to be honest… Rhys has always wanted a family, too.

It’s a dream he resigned himself to never fulfilling once he started working at Hyperion - for all its strides in Omega rights, Helios doesn’t exactly scream ‘child friendly’. Where would their kid even go to school? Where would they play? Who would be their friends if they were the _only_ kid on the space station?

Rhys starts to wonder what their kid would even _be_ like. Boy or girl? Alpha, Omega, or Beta? Would they have Jack’s eyes, or Rhys’s nose? Would they enjoy Jack’s tales of ‘heroics’, have Rhys’s taste in music?

Nope. Nu-uh. Rhys shakes his head. He can’t… be thinking of all that. He has to tell Jack about the baby. He _knows_ that. But he’s terrified, okay? Because he…

He knows about Angel.

He knows Jack had a daughter, long before he met Rhys. He only knows of her in the barest of senses - he’s seen the photo on his mate’s desk, and Jack has let her name slip from his mouth once and only once, on a particularly rough anniversary of her death. Rhys doesn’t know any of the details beyond the fact that a group of ‘fucking bandits’ - Jack’s term for Vault Hunters - was partially responsible, and that Jack holds himself accountable for the rest. He knows that her death led to Jack abandoning the Vault of the Warrior, and that it completely destroyed him. 

Rhys has never seen the Alpha like he did on that night. Small, sad, and broken. He never wants to see him like that again.

So what will Jack do when Rhys tells him? Be happy? See it as a second chance? Or be _furious,_ and see Rhys’s child as some sort of attempt to replace the child he lost?

Rhys frowns, curling up on his bed. His hands cover his stomach, his flesh fingers trembling.

He doesn’t want to lose what he has with Jack. He’s genuinely, truly happy with the Alpha, and he’s not sure anyone who comes after will even come close. 

But the more he thinks about the baby, the less he wants to give it up, too.

Stifling a sigh, Rhys lays a hand flat against his stomach. The bump will start showing in a few more weeks, if Rhys does nothing. He’ll get big, and sore, and he’ll probably complain the entire time but be secretly pleased with himself. Vaughn and Yvette would be the godparents, obviously. And his parents will definitely want to meet Jack now, no excuses; they’ve managed to put it off by insisting things weren’t serious enough to warrant a visit from them… but a _baby_ is serious.

Jack wouldn’t _kill_ Rhys’s parents, he knows, though he’d definitely want to throttle his dad. But he’d put up with them, if Rhys asked. He’d also put up with Rhys’s complaining about his body changing… provided he approved. 

For a blessed moment, Rhys imagines a world where he does. He thinks of arguing over baby names, and who’s turn it is to care for the baby when it wakes them up at an ungodly hour. He thinks of them actually _living_ together, because how could they not if they were going to have a child together? And the baby would have its own little nursery with all the toys and supplies a baby could ask for - 

It seems so perfect, in his head.

Rhys closes his eyes with a wince. That settles it.

He needs to tell Jack.

* * *

There’s a new Eridium mining deal they’re working out that’s consuming much of Jack’s attention in the following days. Rhys is thankful for it; Jack’s work-induced quiet gives him more time to think of how he wants to tell him.

When Rhys was younger, he liked to watch those videos of pregnant Omegas surprising their mates with cute and creative announcements - like putting an actual bun in the oven and waiting for the Alpha to put two and two together. 

Jack is absolutely not going to enjoy that, though, and Rhys is fairly sure he’d make fun of the younger man for going that route. 

So he decides to just be straightforward. He’ll just… say it. Jack, I’m pregnant. Three words, easy. It’s just finding the right time that’s hard.

His opportunity comes just four days later. The Eridium deals wraps up well, and Jack is so pleased with himself, he tells Rhys he’s spending the weekend at the penthouse so they can _‘celebrate’._

Rhys heads dutifully to the penthouse, and hopes he actually makes it through to the weekend.

When he arrives, Jack is in his bedroom, laying leisurely on his massive emperor-size bed, his mask abandoned on the bedside table. The Alpha grins at him, but there’s something manic under the surface of his scarred face that makes Rhys pause. Jack and manic as a combination doesn’t usually end well for Rhys’s ass.

“Babe!” Jack calls out, beckoning Rhys over.

Rhys carefully climbs over to his mate, letting himself be pulled into an embrace - he inhales Jack’s scent with greedy, deep breaths. Mm. He smells better than usual. He wonders if that’s the pregnancy’s effects, or if he’s just being sentimental right now.

“We are gonna break this damn bed,” Jack’s voice, vibrating with excitement, says. He’s peppering kisses along Rhys’s neck, manhandling his body so that the Omega is laying on top of Jack. Rhys tilts his head and groans at the soft kisses, his skin electric where Jack’s lips touch him.

“Deal went that well, huh?” he asks, smiling weakly.

“You bet, baby. Actually, that reminds me.” Jack abruptly sits up, cradling Rhys close to his chest. He’s still grinning, which is starting to freak Rhys out a little. Jack’s never been _this_ happy over a deal before. “While I’m riding off the high of making this company, like, a gajillion more dollars, I wanted to ask you something.”

Rhys raises an eyebrow. “Which is…?”

“Move in with me, Rhysie.”

… What?

“What?” Rhys says aloud, staring at Jack with wide eyes.

“You heard me. Move into the penthouse. It’s kinda stupid that we haven’t started living together already, but I figured, eh, he probably wants his own Omega space, which is weird, but okay. But I’m sick of having to go down to the ‘Peon Sector’ just to see my mate, and it takes too long for you to get here sometimes, so. Move in with me.”

Rhys blinks at the Alpha’s rambling, but his meaning isn’t lost on him. “You want - You want us to live together?”

“That’s what I just said, babe. Keep up.”

“Because you made a really good _deal_?”

“What? No. Well, that’s why I’m asking _now,_ but - come on, Rhys, are you gonna say yes or what?”

Rhys stares at him. The Alpha stares back, gaze narrowed but determined. Despite himself, Rhys feels a giddy, hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat. Jack looks momentarily annoyed at the laughter, until Rhys calms himself enough to press his lips to Jack’s cheek.

“Of course I’m gonna say yes, Jack,” he whispers. 

Jack relaxes against him, and Rhys hadn’t even realized he’d gone tense at the thought Rhys might say no. “Awesome. I’ll have Loader Bots carry your stuff up ASAP.”

Rhys nods; now he’s the one who feels manic. He just hopes he doesn’t fuck this up in the next ten minutes. Because if he doesn’t tell Jack _now,_ he might burst.

“Um,” he starts. “Jack - !”

“Oh, wait, hold on, there’s one more thing!” Jack interrupts, clamping a hand over Rhys’s mouth.

The Omega lets out a muffled squeak of protest. Jack removes his hand and kisses his mate by way of an apology, and when he moves back, Rhys can see the nervousness tinting his expression. And if Jack and manic are a bad combination, Jack and nervous is one Rhys can’t even fathom.

Rhys raises an eyebrow, a silent invitation for Jack to go on.

“Right, so…” The Alpha takes a deep breath. “For the, uh, future. I want you to… y’know. Quit… Quit taking your birth control pills.”

…

…

…

Rhys is stunned into absolute silence. 

Fucking _what._

Jack flusters uncharacteristically, his grip on Rhys growing tighter. “I mean, I know we haven’t, like, talked about it, but I think it’d be sorta nice. Having a family. Together. With me.” He swallows. “If that’s something you’d want.”

“...”

“Rhysie?”

“...”

“You’re… kinda freaking me out here, kiddo. You having one of your weird moods again?”

“...”

“... You can say no, you know.”

That makes Rhys snap out of his trance - he shakes his head, almost smiling at Jack’s put-out expression.

“No, sorry, I just - let me clarify. You want to… have kids, with me?”

Jack snorts. “Well, who else am I gonna have them with? _Vaughn?_ Don't be stupid, kitten.”

Rhys ignores that. “What about… _her_?”

A beat passes. 

Jack’s mouth pulls into a tight line. “Right. Yeah.” 

He takes a deep breath and exhales, thumb rubbing circles into Rhys’s skin. 

“So, I... fucked up with my daughter. I know that. And I can’t even say I know what she’d want for me now, because by the end, I think all she wanted for me was for me to die. But I…” 

The fingers on Rhys’s hips flex with something like desperation. Rhys doesn’t dare interrupt. 

“I wanna do right by you, Rhys,” Jack says at last, looking up into Rhys’s mismatched eyes with his own. Rhys’s breath nearly catches in his throat at the intensity of the Alpha’s state. “I wanna do right by our _kids._ I wanna give you a family, and a home, and all that sappy shit I know you like, so please say yes so I can stop rambling and fucking embarrassing myself, okay?!”

“Not embarrassing,” breathes Rhys. God, but he loves this stupid fucking man. He pitches forwards and kisses Jack like he’s about to slip through his fingers if he doesn’t. Before Jack can get over the shock and respond, though, Rhys pulls back, resting his forehead against Jack’s neck, letting his lips rest on the bonding mark.

“So that’s… a yes?” Jack asks, voice quiet.

“I’m pregnant,” Rhys blurts, words muffled against Jack’s skin.

To his surprise, Jack doesn’t react with shock. He just grins, and squeezes Rhys tighter.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be. Fuck, I can’t wait to put a baby in you, Rhys…”

With a jolt, Rhys realizes Jack only heard him say ‘pregnant’. He laughs, and raises his head to look his Alpha straight in the eye, radiating mirth.

“No, I mean, I’m already pregnant. You already put a baby in me, Jack.”

Jack is… deathly still. Except for his eyes. His eyes grow slowly wider, his right just slightly more so than his left, thanks to the Vault Symbol scar restricting its movement somewhat. Then, when his eyes can grow no larger, his mouth drops open.

“Y-You… _What?”_

“Yep,” Rhys says, popping the ‘p’ and grinning like a lunatic. “‘S why I’ve been so weird lately. The headaches, nausea, soreness, and mood swings. Aaaaall symptoms.”

“W-When? _How?”_ Jack asks frantically.

“I found out a few days ago. I saw Dr. Venger,” he replies. “As for how, well… apparently when _very_ compatible couples share a heat and rut together, birth control can basically go fuck itself.”

Jack blinks. Then, after a long silence, he lets out a breathless chuckle.

“Damn. We’re potent as _fuck_.”

Rhys laughs and kisses his mate - his future roommate, and willing baby daddy, too. Jack kisses him back, falling back onto the bed and rolling on top of Rhys in a quick succession of movements. He props himself up on his elbows and _wow._ Rhys doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Alpha more content.

“I had this whole weekend planned differently, you know. Was gonna convince you to move in with me, get you off the pill, and have lots of raucous baby-making sex to get us started.”

Rhys’s face is starting to hurt from all the smiling, but fuck if he cares. “Guess we’ll have to settle for regular raucous sex, then.”

“You read my mind, sweetheart.”

* * *

“So. Guess I’m gonna have to meet your folks, huh?”

It’s hours later, and they’re both sweaty and sated, tangled up in the sheets of Jack’s bed - though it's theirs now, Rhys supposes. Rhys is lying with his head pillowed on Jack’s hairy, broad chest, his cybernetic arm disconnected and set aside. His flesh fingers are idly playing with his Alpha’s chest hair, while Jack is stroking his hand down Rhys’s back. 

Rhys hums. “Yeah. Fair warning, my dad’s kind of a dick.”

He imagines Jack is grimacing. “Greeeeat. Your mom?”

The Omega thinks for a moment. “She’ll like you. She’ll also be scandalized that I’m having a baby before getting married, but she’ll get over it.”

“...”

“Jack?”

The Alpha shuffles, reaching over to the bedside table. For a moment, Rhys thinks he’s reaching for his mask, but instead, his hand dives into the drawer, rummaging around for some unknown prize. Rhys looks at Jack’s face, and finds a small smile playing on the older man’s lips.

“There it is,” he murmurs, hand withdrawing from the drawer. Rhys’s eyes go to it -

“Jack,” the Omega starts, staring at the small velvet box with shock. “You didn’t.”

Jack snickers, bringing the box to wave invitingly in front of Rhys’s face for a moment before he opens it.

Rhys gasps - inside is the most expensive ring he’s ever seen. Golden band shaped like small, interlocked hexagons, with a large yellow diamond as its centerpiece, and smaller, though equally-impressive white diamonds framing it in a circle. 

The younger man forces his eyes away from the ring to look at his mate. Jack is staring at him expectantly. 

Rhys feels lightheaded. “... You’re not even going to ask the question, are you?”

Jack gives him a look. “Why would I? You’re not gonna say no.”

“You are doing this all entirely the wrong way, you unromantic jerk,” gripes Rhys, but he holds up his hand anyway, allowing Jack to take the ring out and slide it onto the appropriate finger. He wiggles his fingers, admiring the way the light catches on the beautiful piece of jewelry. He doesn’t even wanna know how much it cost.

“You love it. Besides,” Jack holds Rhys’s hand up to his mouth, pausing to press a sweet kiss to the finger holding the ring. “I bought this thing a month after we bonded. So. Y’know.”

“Jack.” Rhys feels overwhelmed. “That was more than a year ago.”

“Yeah. Call me unromantic again, I dare you.”

Rhys doesn’t rise to that dare - he does, however, rise to plant his lips on his mate’s.

His mate, his future roommate, the father of all his future children, and now, his fiancé.

“I love you, Jack.”

Jack’s smile is everything Rhys wants, now and forever. 

“I love you too, Rhysie.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> btw, they end up having three kids, in this order: Alpha daughter Circe, Alpha son Adler, and Omega daughter Selene. 
> 
> Circe and Selene are supposed to be the names of daughters of Helios (different ones from the Heliades; Greek mythology, y'all), and Helios also had a son named Aeëtes, which means 'Eagle', so I chose a different name that also means eagle: Adler.
> 
> I care too much about baby names.


End file.
